King Finger
by Wishful Thinking Fiction
Summary: Kate and Elliot want to play too! Grandma and Grandpa are watching the kids, so two of our favorite couples attend a BDSM fair.


**King Finger**

 **by *Wishful Thinking* Fiction**

"And tonight, we have a very special guest with us. He was a pioneer in establishing some of the techniques that we know and love today. He's stepped away from the BDSM community for the last twenty years to pursue his passion for beauty pageants. His company 'Pretty, Pretty Princesses' has grown to enjoy global success, making pageantry for young girls and women great again. May I present to you, Mr. -"

The rest of the announcer's sentence is drowned out by a high-pitched squeal from Kate.

"Elliot! _Fuck_... I'm soaked... and it's FREEZING!"

Standing with his arms wrapped around Kate's shoulders from behind, Elliot had accidentally bumped her, causing her cherry daiquiri to spill into the front of her dress. It slid straight between her cleavage and, gauging by her squirming, right down into her underwear.

"SHHHHH..." hisses an unattractive Dominatrix on the far side of middle-aged. Standing on the other side of Elliot, she's bursting out of her too-small corset, her twenty-something sub beside her on a leash. "We came all the way from Cleveland to see _'The King of Fingering'_ so DON'T RUIN IT!"

Kate closes her eyes and clenches her thighs together. I see her take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She's holding it together pretty well for someone who's got a crotch full of cherry daiquiri. _Come on Kate, keep it together... Take the high road…_ She holds back from giving Mrs. Robinson the verbal bitch-slap she deserves, but leans over and whispers to me, "She's just grumpy cuz that corset is so twenty years and thirty pounds ago."

I giggle, thinking Grace and Carrick would die if they knew they had all three of their grandchildren for a sleepover tonight so their parents could attend a BDSM products fair! Christian and I had been shocked when Kate approached me to express an interest in BDSM. She knew we liked to play and found it a great way to blow off steam. After Ava, she and Elliot felt their sex life needed some spicing up, so Kate had approached me with a list of questions. I'd made some suggestions, and a week later Elliot had shocked Christian at a private lunch at Grey House by announcing he and Kate had spent the weekend playing and it had been the hottest sex they'd ever had.

Over the following year, we'd introduced Elliot and Kate into more of the scene, including BDSM clubs and parties. The first time we'd seen the two of them scene at a private club in New York was certainly odd, but now when the four of us got together, discussions about butt plugs and spreaders were just as likely as chat about fashion and fishing. Kate and Elliot had decided to turn part of their basement into a playroom, so they'd invited Christian and me to give them suggestions about essential equipment. So here we were, listening to the opening remarks before the products fair opened.

I turn my attention to the stage where the self-declared _'King of Fingering'_ is now holding court. _Who the fuck is this guy?_ There is no way that he was a legend in the BDSM scene just twenty years ago. He's in his late seventies if he's a day! He's also grossly obese. His jowls practically reach his narrow shoulders, while his paunch spills over his waistband. Kate's confused expression matches my thoughts, and I don't think she's capable of speech, so I lean over to Christian.

"This guy was a legend? When? 1962? And that CANNOT be his real hair."

His pale peach-colored mop is shaped into a sort of elaborate comb-over, resembling something between a taco shell and a frisbee. I haven't seen that shade since my grandmother wore it - and it hadn't looked good on her, either. Christian is slowly sliding one finger back and forth across his upper lip, eyeing the guy like he's trying to figure out where he's seen him before.

Looking back to the stage, I catch the last part of what he's saying. "... so I said to him _'You know I'm automatically attracted to beautiful. I just start kissing them. It's like a magnet. Just kiss. I don't even wait.'_ "

"You do whatever you want?" the announcer asks.

"Grab them by the pussy," King Finger gloats. "You can do _anything."_

He pauses and wipes the sweat from his forehead, right along his hairline. And his hair doesn't move. It's like a fucking helmet. And then there's his odd jaundiced skin – orange all over except around his eyes. Either he's been involved in an industrial accident at the Cheetos factory, or he's spent too long in a tan-bed with pads over his eyes. Either way, the result is visually displeasing.

"I mean, fingering a woman... they all want the same thing. And with my three-step process, you too can..." I look over to Kate, who is no longer able to tolerate the verbal diarrhea coming from the stage. Even Elliot looks pissed.

"Oh NO... he did NOT just say that about women..." Kate growls looking furiously at Elliot, his accident with her cherry daiquiri now apparently forgotten. _Uh oh... Killer Kavanagh - er, Grey - is sharpening her claws._

Ms. Too-Tight Corset leans over Elliot to put her two tits - I mean, two cents - in, waving off the comment saying, "Oh that's just men being men... locker room talk. You know."

Kate and I stare at each other. No, we don't know. Christian might be a bossy, hard-headed Dominant, and husband, but he would never... and I mean _never_ talk about women like that or allow any of his staff to, either.

I shudder and thank my lucky stars that this poor excuse for a man is only known in pageantry and BDSM circles. I'd hate my young son or infant daughter to ever have reason to be exposed to his draconian, misogynistic views on women. It was actually frightening he had anything to do with pageantry. A man like that shouldn't be allowed anywhere near impressionable young women.

I hear Christian snap his fingers, and he turns to Kate, Elliot and me.

"I just remembered where I've heard of him before. I can't remember his name... He's a washed-up wannabe who pretends his company is still actually worth something. Calls himself a self-made man, but really he's been getting millions from his dad's estate for _years._ There was also some ugliness about not handing over IRS reports or something? Now he makes his living doing speaking gigs at events like these. Ronald... That's right... Gump? No that's not it. DUMP! Ronald Dump. Really, Ana, he's a no one..."

With that, the four of us turn away and enter the BDSM fair, Kate giggling as she teases Elliot with the prospect of being able to taste her cherry daiquiri later if he plays his cards right!


End file.
